Missing Scenes
by elbcw
Summary: This will be an occasionally updated collections of missing scenes from the BBC's The Musketeers. I will note the episode for each new story at the start. I hope you enjoy them.
1. D'Artagnan's Farther

**Authors note: I have decided to jump on the 'missing scenes' band wagon. They are always great to read and have been a firm favourite of mine since I started reading fan fiction. **

**I will update occasionally and in no particular order.**

**Missing scene from series one, episode one: Friends and Enemies**

**Monsieur D'Artagnan**

As Porthos finished covering the imposters grave Aramis straightened up. He stretched out the kinks in his back, turning away from the shallow grave that had become the unknown man's last resting place.

D'Artagnan had wandered a few yards away, his back to them. Aramis could see a slight slump in the young man's shoulders. The man, who seemed to be fuelled by anger, initially directed at Athos, but now at the real villains, was oddly quiet and still. Aramis walked up to him, being careful to make enough noise so that the young man would know he was there. Aramis stopped beside d'Artagnan; he was a little surprised to find the man looking upset.

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan, trying to hide the emotion in his voice.

Aramis looked at him, expecting him to continue. D'Artagnan sniffed and wiped his eyes with his gloved hand.

'I... er... I buried my father over there,' he said pointing towards a small clump of trees.

Aramis could make out the freshly dug earth. He shook his head; he had forgotten the young man was grieving. He glanced back at Porthos who was brushing dirt from his breeches as he watched the exchange. The Musketeer nodded.

'We've got time,' said Porthos.

D'Artagnan looked at them both.

Aramis smiled, 'you are helping us. The least we can do is give you a few minutes to pay your respects to your father.'

D'Artagnan nodded, blinking a couple of times. He slowly worked across the muddy ground, still wet from the hard rain they had experienced. Aramis followed him, pulling his crucifix loose as he went. The young man stopped at the side of the grave. A crudely made cross of wood marking the last resting place of Monsieur D'Artagnan. Aramis waited for the young man to glance at him and notice his cross. D'Artagnan nodded. Aramis rested his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, offering what comfort he could as he quietly prayed. Porthos was on d'Artagnan's other side, hat clutched loosely in his hand, head bowed. When Aramis finished his prayer, he crossed himself, d'Artagnan repeated the move.

'Thank you,' he said after a few seconds of silence as Aramis squeezed his shoulder.

'When this is over, we can return, I'm sure a local priest will do what he can- '

'No,' interrupted the young man, 'I think your prayer is enough. And avenging his death. And freeing Athos. That is what my father would want. Some justice for himself and all the others that have been hurt.'

Aramis nodded his understanding. Porthos stepped forward, putting his hat on as he spoke.

'Let's get back then,' he said. 'Let's get this sorted.'

The End.


	2. After The Fake Fight

**Authors note: This is set at the end of Commodities. A bit of a missing scene and a tag for Aramis and Porthos. **

After the Fake Fight

As d'Artagnan ushered Bonnaire from the tavern Aramis returned his attention to the angry Musketeer in front of him. Porthos was very convincing. If he had not been the one to suggest that Porthos should instigate a fight, Aramis might have believed him.

Athos was busy ensuring the other men did not get too invested in the fight as Porthos pretended to have a go at Aramis. Sparring with each other was normal, they often demonstrated sword fighting and fist fighting for the cadets. But in a dimly lit, crowded tavern, they had to be careful.

Unfortunately for Aramis, Porthos seemed to have forgotten himself. Despite being injured the man was still able to land an impressive punch. Stunned, Aramis stumbled back, falling over a small table and landed in a heap by the fire.

Porthos glanced at the door, there was no sign of Bonnaire. They had done what they needed to. Athos had easily dealt with the other men, before making his way to the tavern keeper, pulling his money bag from his pocket as he went.

Aramis was pleased both men had looked away, it gave him a few seconds to school his expression. The last thing he wanted was for Porthos to realise he was hurt. He was only bruised, but Aramis knew he would feel it the next morning.

As he pushed himself up to stand Aramis found Porthos' left hand stretched out towards him. He allowed his friend to help him up. All Aramis had to do was get through the rest of the evening without letting on that he was injured. Porthos was obviously happy with the outcome of their plan. With luck, he would not notice. Aramis could disappear to his rooms and deal with the aftermath of the fake fight and his friend did not need to know anything had happened.

M M M M

'Mind my wound,' said Porthos, as Aramis slung his arm across his shoulder.

Aramis was suitably apologetic as they walked away from the tavern and the fake fight. It had been a good night. Bonnaire was gone and he had been given the chance to punch out at a few people. The fight might have been pretend but it still felt good to get some of the built-up anger out.

He chuckled at the memory of Aramis stumbling back. His friend had looked genuinely shocked, he had denied being frightened but Porthos was not so sure.

A couple of street children ran past them, forcing them both to move aside quickly. As he turned to continue along the road Porthos realised Aramis was not with him. He looked back, surprised to see his friend leaning against the wall, one hand pressing against his side, his eyes screwed shut.

'You alright?' he asked, reaching out to Aramis as he spoke.

Aramis opened his eyes and looked at him, his friend was obviously embarrassed. Porthos realised what had happened. He had known Aramis long enough to know when he was about to lie about his wellbeing. Porthos tilted his head, pre-empting the lie with a silent rebuke.

'Sorry,' Aramis sighed. 'When you pushed me over... I landed badly I'm bruised... might have pulled something... I will be fine.'

'Why didn't you say?" asked Porthos.

Aramis looked away for a few seconds before responding

'Because I didn't want to ruin your evening, I wanted you to enjoy your victory over that… that idiot.'

Porthos smiled, 'well the evening is finished now. And you will not spoil it... as long as you allow me to see you to your room and satisfy myself that you will be alright.'

Aramis looked as though he was about to object but changed his mind.

'Consider it me repaying the favour," suggested Porthos indicating his shoulder.

'If you insist," said Aramis with a smile of his own.

'I do," replied Porthos.

The End.


	3. Should I Let Him Win?

**Authors note: This is for **Fleuramis** who thinks that d'Artagnan won the sparring match against Aramis in The Challenge despite the rest of us telling her he didn't.**

'Should I let him win?'

Porthos stared at Aramis as if he was mad.

'No. Why would you let him win?'

'To boost his confidence…'

Porthos smirked, he could see that his friend had already realised how ridiculous he sounded. Treville had paired Aramis and d'Artagnan for the sword fighting part of the challenge. Porthos knew why; he had paired them because they were evenly matched. They would not have been a few months before. The young Gascon was good with a sword but he lacked discipline when they first met him. His fiery temper always got the better of him. But Athos had tamed their young friend, honed his talent, taught him well. It had been amusing to watch the quiet man, once the victim of d'Artagnan's rage, slowly and surely shape his protege into a good swordsman.

Now d'Artagnan was good with the blade, he did not think about his footwork, he could sustain a good standard for long enough to wear out most of the other men and he could read the moves of his opponent. All things that each of them could do, they were the best of the Musketeers, after all, thought Porthos with a hidden smile. And each of the three of them was of the opinion that there was room for a fourth, with or without his commission.

Aramis had spent a few minutes warming up, swinging his arms, loosening his shoulders. They had clashed swords a few times, Porthos merely defending himself from Aramis' swings and thrusts helping his friend to prepare.

Treville was on the prowl. The Captain walked passed them, his eyes very much fixed on d'Artagnan. He had not looked at Aramis once, the Captain knew how good each of them was, he had no need to assess their abilities, his sole focus was the cadet receiving his final instructions.

'I suppose,' said Aramis as they watched Athos talking to d'Artagnan in that fatherly way he had with the younger man, 'that he needs to prove himself...that's the whole point isn't it?'

'You'd be doing him a disservice if you let him win,' said Porthos, 'what if the Captain notices? He'd think we were compensating for him. You know how much getting a commission means to him.'

Aramis nodded before turning away to make a few practice lunges and kicking a couple of stones out of the way, ensuring the area was free from any other debris.

D'Artagnan looked a bit nervous or fired up, it was difficult to tell, perhaps both. His shirt was filthy from the last bit of practice with Athos. The superior swordsman had managed to get the younger man on the ground with little difficulty, prompting the final words of wisdom. D'Artagnan was wound up about Labarge and the loss of his farm, the young man needed to learn to set aside other things and concentrate on the enemy in front of him, not the one he could do nothing about.

Athos nodded to Aramis that they should start, the two men approached one another, saluting gallantly.

Porthos stood back, watching, enjoying the show. D'Artagnan started a little slowly, Aramis was easily beating him. Porthos wondered if his friend might back off a little, might give the cadet a bit more of a chance. A few seconds later he found himself grinning as d'Artagnan found his own way. The Gascon, fought back, causing Aramis to put his own full force into the fight. It was a though a switch had been turned on in d'Artagnan. He matched Aramis easily. Porthos wondered if, given a few more years, maybe only months, of tutelage from Athos, the young man might better them all.

D'Artagnan was a bit showy with his moves once he had warmed up to the fight. Aramis stopped fighting back and simply defended himself. There was no need to switch up the sparring to a full-blown fight. D'Artagnan had more than proved himself. And Aramis had nothing to prove. With a theatrical tumble, d'Artagnan ended the fight much to Aramis' amusement.

Porthos could see the approval on Treville's face. The look of hidden pride on Athos' face was a pleasure to witness.

Aramis wandered back to Porthos grinning.

'He's got good, hasn't he?' said the Musketeer as he steadied his breathing.

'You weren't holding back were you?' asked Porthos, trying to scrutinize his friend's expression.

Aramis paused for a fraction of a second too long before shaking his head. Porthos smirked. Aramis looked a little guilty.

'They didn't notice, did they?' asked Aramis quietly with a subtle look towards the Captain and Athos. 'It was only a little and only for a moment, just to give him a chance to centre himself. After that, I'd say we were even.'

Porthos smiled, Aramis had selflessly helped their friend and there was nothing wrong with that at all.

The End.

**Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it.**


	4. Hidden Smile

**Authors note: Set during 'Knight Takes Queen'. **

**Hidden Smile**

She wanted to help, she always wished she could be more useful. But she was the Queen. She was the Queen of France. And as the Queen of France, she had other people to do everything for her.

With several glances back at Aramis, who was still standing in the river fishing, in nothing but his braies, the Queen wandered back to where d'Artagnan was busy setting a small fire. Porthos had just dropped a pile of dry twigs next to the new Musketeer.

'Majesty,' said d'Artagnan, all respect and courtesy.

She nodded to him and sat on the tree branch that had been pulled across the clearing to lie a few feet from the fire. She watched Porthos brushing dirt and debris from his gloves before walking in the direction she has seen Athos disappear to ensure they were still safe.

The soldiers were doing all that they could to keep her safe. If she was honest the day was proving to be the most exciting, and terrifying, day of her life. She had been apprehensive on her wedding night. Not scared or terrified, as she had been when the attack occurred mere hours before. She had watched one of her maids shot and had quickly realised the unseen assassin had meant to kill her. She had been grabbed and forced to climb rocks, she had been manipulated and pushed to the ground by the soldiers. She had been aware of them shielding her with their own bodies, ready to take any shot that was meant to her. Ready to die for her.

As their flight had continued, she had taken stock. She was lucky to be alive, although she also knew luck had nothing to do with it. Captain Treville had sent his best men to watch over her. Even the newest Musketeer, d'Artagnan, had already proven himself loyal to the Crown on several occasions.

Anne wanted something to take her mind off the events that had led to her sitting in a copse of trees surrounded by Musketeers, enjoying a no doubt brief respite being pursued by a group of murderous men. She watched Aramis, now fully dressed, return with several fish. She wondered if they would let her cook the fish as she had suggested. She had a wicked thought and she smiled to herself as she watched Aramis and Porthos preparing the fish to be cooked.

MMMM

She had told them she was not hungry, she was still too fearful, but that she wanted them to eat. She knew they needed the energy. She had watched their faces as she kept the speared fish in the flames far longer than was necessary.

None of them said anything.

She had not expected them to. They could not correct the Queen. She hid her smile. After all that had gone on, it felt wrong to be playing with her saviours, but at the same time, she found that she respected them even more for their loyalty. She knew that even when they had escaped - and she knew they would escape - the men would not say anything disparaging about her or her cooking. They probably would have said things about her husband that they should not, despite remaining loyal. Anne was sure the Musketeers knew what kind of life she was forced to lead and that they sympathised with her.

It was Aramis who was first to compliment her, she knew it would be him.

'Mmm… delicious, your Majesty,' he said.

She smiled.

Porthos made an appreciative sound as well.

She smiled.

Athos' appreciation was more of a grunt of approval. His attempt at civility amused her.

'It's the first time I've ever cooked,' she said with as much innocence behind the statement as she could muster.

'That's…. hard to imagine,' said Athos.

The Musketeer was doing his best not to react wrongly to the overcooked food. Anne almost felt bad for stringing the quartet along. She was not usually one to engage in games of deception, but sometimes, sometimes, it was necessary. It was not necessary at that moment, but she continued nonetheless, wondering how far she could go with them, the distraction welcome after the fraught and tragic morning she had experienced. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to hide her smile, but she had plenty of practice at hiding her true emotions and feelings in her everyday life in the Palace.

'Would you like another?' she asked as she noticed d'Artagnan surreptitiously tip his burnt offering away.

She hid another smile.

She swung the charred fish towards Athos. A momentary hesitation on Athos part told Anne that he was not sure how to avoid being given another burnt fish.

'Thank you… but I'm full,' was his eventual considered reply.

She turned back to Porthos and d'Artagnan who both took their cue from Athos and indicated that they too were full.

She hid a smile.

Seconds later she was swept up into another flurry of activity. The fish and the fire left behind as they continued to evade the men that were trying to kill her. She felt safe with them as they bore her away. Aramis kept a tight hold of her, whilst the others flanked them. Anne knew that they would lay down their lives for her. In some way, despite the danger, she felt at her safest with those four Musketeers at her side.

She knew, when it was all over, that she would not be able to thank them properly for keeping her safe, but she suspected that they would know how grateful she was, even if she had played with them a little in the process.

The End.

**Authors note: I hope you enjoyed it.**


	5. He Shot Me

Missing scene - Musketeers don't die easily

**Authors note: This is set at the end of the pre-credit scene on 'Musketeers don't die easily'. It has always seemed a bit odd to me that Aramis and Porthos are helping d'Artagnan after Athos shot him but then stick to their act of hating him until the plot is revealed later in the episode. This is how I think their conversation went…**

Aramis rushed forward, Porthos at his side, they grabbed the stunned d'Artagnan before he could crash completely to the ground. Athos continued to berate Milady as the Captain made attempts to keep them apart.

Athos had shot d'Artagnan in the side. That had not been the plan.

Porthos was trying to keep the shocked young man conscious. Their plan would not work if d'Artagnan could not be helped away by Milady. From the way Athos had described his wife and her antics, they would not be surprised if she took one look at an unconscious d'Artagnan and left him on the street.

D'Artagnan had to go with Milady for the plan to work.

Aramis shook his head and returned his focus to d'Artagnan, pushing the confused man's hands away from the injury so that he could inspect it. He had no intention of tending to the wound unless it was necessary. If Athos' shot had been off by a couple of inches the injury could easily have proved fatal which was why they had wanted Athos to shoot d'Artagnan in the arm. A shot in the side was going to be more debilitating.

'Stay awake,' muttered Porthos as he gently slapped and shook d'Artagnan.

The colour had drained from the injured man's face, but he managed to focus on them both.

'He shot me.'

'Yes,' said Aramis quietly, 'that was the plan remember? Listen to me d'Artagnan.'

D'Artagnan looked at him for a few seconds before nodding slowly. Too slowly for Aramis' liking.

'The shot has only grazed your ribs,' Aramis continued as he looked at the wound, 'it's going to hurt, make sure it gets cleaned properly and dressed. Don't do anything too energetic - '

Aramis stopped talking when both d'Artagnan and Porthos looked at him.

'He might not have a choice about whether he's energetic or not,' pointed out Porthos.

D'Artagnan managed a nod of agreement.

Aramis had to concede the point. Under normal circumstances they would have taken d'Artagnan to the infirmary, dealt with the wound and let him rest. Aramis was forced to think as he would on a battlefield, the injury needed to be looked at, but it could wait a little while, at least until the end of the battle.

'Remember what you've got to do,' said Porthos. 'Do nothing else. Don't change anything else. We can't help you if you start changing things.'

D'Artagnan nodded again, 'I know what I've got to do,' he said, his words slightly slurred.

He started to blink, his head nodding as he slipped towards unconsciousness again, the shock starting to pull him away from them. Porthos shook him again. D'Artagnan managed to focus himself.

'I'm awake, it's alright.'

'It's far from alright,' said Aramis. 'Be careful, we'll see you in a couple of days.'

Aramis was aware of Treville pushing Athos towards the garrison and pretending to struggle to do so. Athos was shouting abuse at d'Artagnan, trying to get at him. Treville and Athos were proving to be quite the distraction. Aramis was glad, it had given him and Porthos the few precious seconds they needed to make sure d'Artagnan was still fit enough to take on the next part of their plan. He knew d'Artagnan would probably have wanted to carry on regardless of his injury but Aramis had decided, with Athos and Porthos' blessing, to put a stop to the plan there and then if something had gone wrong with their theatrical stunt in the square. None of them had told d'Artagnan, they knew the fiery young man would have objected and accused them of mollycoddling him. But really, they would have preferred to come up with a different plan than lose their friend.

The time had come for them to pretend to abandon d'Artagnan. The young man who had tried to take them all on in a sword fight that fateful day. D'Artagnan had wormed his way into all their lives and they were about to leave him, bleeding on the cobbles. They were about to leave him to carry on with their ambitious plan alone.

Porthos rested his hand on Aramis' arm.

'We've got to go,' said Porthos.

Aramis nodded before looking at d'Artagnan who managed a small smile which looked more like a grimace.

'Tell Athos I'll be fine,' he said before easing Porthos' hand off his shoulder.

Taking his cue Treville loomed over the three of them.

'Leave him.'

The command was planned, but it was still difficult. Porthos rose to stand, Aramis did the same a fraction of a second later.

'If he wants to be with her, let her help him.'

'He don't deserve our help,' said Porthos.

As planned Aramis made a half-hearted complaint but Treville shook his head firmly and indicated for them to walk away.

With a last look over his shoulder, Aramis watched as Milady de Winter moved to d'Artagnan's side. The newest member of their group was about to embark on a dangerous mission and none of them could help him. At least not to start with.

The End.


End file.
